


For the Win

by triste



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F, Genderswap, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triste/pseuds/triste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's summertime. America wants England to dress accordingly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Win

Title: For the Win  
Author: Triste  
Fandom: Hetalia  
Pairing: Fem!America/fem!England  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: Genderswitch  
Status: Complete  
Disclaimer: Not mine

~~

The reasoning was simple. Summer had finally reached the United Kingdom after what had felt like a never-ending winter. The sun was shining. Temperatures had soared to over thirty-seven degrees Celsius. It was time, America decided, for England to start dressing accordingly. That meant forgoing her usual five layers of clothing in favour of something altogether more suitable for the change in weather. Unsurprisingly, England was not impressed.

“You want me to wear these,” she said flatly, holding up the cropped top and hot pants America had brought. “In public. In other words, you want me to go out looking like a tart.”

“It’s better than what you’re wearing at the moment,” America told her. “Get with the times! Women are allowed to dress like this now. We’re not living in the days where they were forced to cover themselves from neck to ankle anymore. Be a little more daring. Try wearing something other than those uncool sweater vests.”

England bristled. “They are not ‘uncool’, as you so ineloquently put it. They are practical and aesthetically pleasing.”

“Come on," America wheedled. “I know you can’t stand the heat. It’s why you’ve been shut inside your house all this time. Get outside and experience some of this gorgeous weather!”

“I’ll burn.”

“Then use plenty of sunscreen and stay in the shade.”

“I’ll get dehydrated.”

“Then drink plenty of water.”

“People will stare at me.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of wearing revealing clothing?”

With that, America began herding England in the direction of the bathroom. “Come on, time to change. You’ll thank me for it later, I promise.”

“Wait,” England stammered, dragging her heels. “I’m not so sure about this...”

“Trust me, I’m awesome. Go on, get moving.” America gave England a playful slap on the butt before nudging her into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her to muffle the sounds of England’s offended yowls.

Time passed by. America waited. And waited. And waited. Finally she ran out of patience and hammered on the door.

“Is everything okay? You’re being suspiciously silent. You haven’t escaped through the window, have you?”

There was no response. America tried the handle. Luckily, it was unlocked.

“Don’t barge in like that!” England snapped, hiding behind a towel.

America clicked her tongue. “Jeez, I thought you’d died or something. And take that towel away, it makes you look ridiculous.” England only clutched it tighter to herself, so America reached out and yanked it out of her grip.

England immediately reddened under America’s stare, lowering her gaze self-consciously. She had gotten changed after all. Her legs, usually covered by thigh-high socks, were now exposed thanks to the hot pants. Her arms, which America had only ever seen from the elbow down when England switched her long-sleeved blouses for short-sleeved ones, were also showing off considerably more skin. On top of that, the cropped top bared her midriff.

“Hey, you look cuter than I thought you would,” America said, giving a low whistle. “Not as cute as me, of course, but I suppose that can’t be helped.”

“This is stupid,” England grumbled. “I feel daft. Anyway, I’m too old for this. Have you never heard the phrase ‘mutton dressed as lamb’ before?”

“You don’t look a day over twenty-three. Who cares about your actual age? It’s your appearance that counts.” America pouted mournfully. “Or is it wrong of me to want my girl to look good so I can show her off?”

As always, America’s puppy eyes worked a treat on England. She’d never been able to resist them. Throwing in some flattery as an extra only served to make her putty in America’s hands that much quicker.

England gave in. “I suppose it’s not too bad.”

“Right?” America beamed. “And don’t worry, I won’t put you under public scrutiny right away. We’ll take it in stages and get you used to walking around like this outdoors. How about we start off with a stroll around the garden? You can see to the plants while you’re at it. I’ll help.”

At least, that was the plan. Unlike England, America did not count gardening as one of her hobbies. She also had a short attention span. She ended up helping England for a grand total of about ten minutes before getting bored and retreating to the deckchair area.

“Thank you, America,” England said, her tone heavy with sarcasm. “Your assistance proved to be invaluable. I don’t know how I manage without you.”

America waved. “Don’t mention it. I’m a heroine, aren’t I?”

England turned her attention back to tending the garden while America watched lazily. Thank god for heat waves, she thought. It was amazing just how much rain came pouring down here, even during the summer months. England complained about it, naturally, because it could be near impossible to please her with some things, especially when it came to the weather.

Summer meant sports, specifically tennis. America wondered idly if England would streak again at Wimbledon after drinking too much Pimm’s. It seemed to be a time honoured tradition, like the accompaniment of cucumber sandwiches and lemonade with strawberries and cream.

America’s stomach grumbled. She hoped England would treat her to some strawberries once she was finished gardening, but her hunger for food was soon forgotten altogether. She was glad she’d been able to talk England into wearing something more revealing for once. She was also glad of England’s insistence of putting on plenty of sunscreen before heading outdoors. It made her pale skin glisten under the sunlight. She was sweating slightly too, America noticed.

Her lips quirked upwards, but she didn’t make her move. Not yet. For the moment she was content to stare while England remained oblivious.

Now that she thought about it, America couldn’t remember ever seeing England in wearing any kind of shorts before, let alone hot pants. She very rarely wore trousers either, which amused America when she considered how much cross-dressing England had done in her youth. These days she maintained her status as a lady with the likes of modest skirts and dresses, though America knew from stories by France and Spain that she hadn’t always been so prim and proper.

America grinned to herself as she followed the curve of England’s hips with her eyes, promising later to touch those hips (and other parts of England’s body) as much as she liked later. Her grin widened when she saw the way England’s hot pants rode up and tightened across her backside when she bent over.

England chose that moment to peer over her shoulder suspiciously. “Are you leering at me?”

America’s grin turned from lecherous to sheepish. “How could you tell?”

“I have France as a neighbour,” England said dryly. “I know instinctively when someone is looking at me in a manner that’s less than innocent.”

“Then I’ll get straight to the point,” America stated. “I was planning on waiting a little longer, but what the heck. Let’s have fun.”

“I think not,” England replied. “I’m still busy. My hands are also rather dirty. What’s more, anyone could see us.”

“How so? Your property is completely private. The only way people will see anything is if they’re using high power binoculars to spy on us. Even France wouldn’t go as far as that.”

“No, she’d install hidden cameras everywhere in order to get the best possible shots. She wouldn’t be satisfied with just one angle. Don’t underestimate the power of an open pervert.”

America could kind of understand. She felt like being a bit of a pervert herself. It must have showed on her face, because England straightened up and took a wary step back. America slid off her deckchair.

England held up a trowel warningly. “Don’t come any closer. I’m armed.” America snickered. England tried again. “Stay away! Don’t you–”

America cut her off with a kiss. She knew exactly how to make England forget any protests she’d been making previously. It was the same method she used whenever she wanted to make England melt into her arms.

It didn’t happen this time as England wriggled out of America’s embrace. “Not here,” she hissed, more annoyed than she should have been after a kiss like that. “At least let me get clean first.”

“Maybe I want you to get me dirty,” America said suggestively.

That brought a blush to England’s face. “Don’t be so absurd. I’m going back inside now, whether you like it or not.”

America picked her up before she could go anywhere, ignoring England’s squawks of protest as she carried her over to the deck chair she’d recently vacated. “Sit right there while I have my way with you.”

“You are not having your way with anything. Let me go.”

“No can do.” America’s hands went to England’s hot pants, deftly flicking open the top button before drawing down the zipper.

“Stop that,” England ordered, voice shaky. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Good. You’re cute when you’re embarrassed. You’re even cuter when you’re so turned on you can’t stand it.”

England continued to struggle somewhat, crossing her legs firmly when America succeeded in getting her hot pants and underwear off. America was only able to coax them apart enough to get between them after taking advantage of England’s ticklish spot, causing her to drop her guard temporarily.

“Hey,” she coaxed, noticing England’s unhappy frown. “Don’t make that face. I’m going to take good care of you.”

“As you wish,” England said haughtily.

America wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. She also knew exactly how to manipulate England into doing whatever she wanted. England wouldn’t be frowning forever. It wouldn’t take long before an entirely different expression took its place.

But for now, England was sulking. America could tell by the way she didn’t move to resist when she began by gently stroking her thumbs along the insides of England’s thighs. America lowered her head to pepper kisses over England’s stomach, getting a reaction at long last when she dipped the tip of her tongue inside England’s bellybutton, making her squirm. Slowly, America’s kisses moved lower and lower. She gained another, more satisfying reaction when she touched her lips against the junction between England’s legs.

England bucked and moaned, her muddy fingers gripping the edges of the deck chair tightly. “America,” she breathed.

America smiled up at her sweetly. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

England was already wet when America used her thumb to part the folds of her vagina, tasting with her tongue, teasing her open. England moaned again, louder and more insistent when America’s lips sought out her clit, kissing it, licking it and finally tugging it into her mouth for a brief suck.

“Oh God,” she kept saying. “Oh God, oh God, oh God...”

America allowed herself a few seconds to feel smug before returning to the task at hand, slipping her index and middle fingers inside England and thrusting them in and out. England’s hips ground against them. America almost wished she’d let England talk her into going back indoors after all. At least then she would have been able to satisfy her with more than just a few fingers. To say England could be so uptight and downright prudish sometimes, she did have an impressive collection of sex toys, as expected of a closet pervert.

Oh well. America supposed she would just have to make do with what she had.

Withdrawing her fingers, she brought her mouth down hard on England’s clit, working it relentlessly until she came, shuddering, calling out America’s name.

America waited patiently for England to return to herself, smiling when England’s gaze finally focused on hers. “How awesome was that? See? It really is better when you do it outdoors.”

“If you insist,” England said, still breathless. “Now, if you’ll just let me put my clothes back on...”

“Nuh-uh.” America lifted England up and slung her over one shoulder, patting her bare butt with her free hand. “We’re going inside to play some more. Isn’t it great being a woman? Multiple orgasms for the win!”

“You’re not going to listen to a word I say, are you?”

“Hell no. Not when fun and games are waiting for us.”

 

End.


End file.
